When the path leads onward over rocks and crags with only cairns to lead the way our hope of catching the promised view had diminished. We had started in the valley with blue skies above us. Birds in birches, the giggling sound of water tumbling in the streams, strengthened by the morning coffee, we soon left the trees behind us walking over alpine meadows. But as soon we reached the vegetation line the fog had lifted from the sea below and choked all discussions. We hiked in silence over boulders close to stagnant pools as time stretched into a suffocating noose. We knew we had to cross the peak before the path led down again and finally, we reached a cairn straddling the broad peak.
We stopped to catch our breath when suddenly the sky above us opened radiantly blue with clouds pillowed softly far below, and we saw other peaks, starving islands in a silent sea, we stayed silent for a while before we hiked down into the next valley.
only the raven
sees the paint-strokes of bloom —
This describes a hike we took a few years ago on the island of Senja in Norway. What is your story about hikes? Join us at dVerse where Frank hosts haibun Monday where we write about hikes.
The purple saxifrage is an alpine flower you may find even where nothing else seems to be able to grow.